


A Dangerous Mind

by lil_1337



Series: Five sentence fics [18]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-26
Updated: 2007-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quatre is the target of an assassination attempt.  Set within the 5sentences universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dangerous Mind

_"We're ordinary people forced to do extraordinary things because the times required them of us."_

Quatre Winner smiled sadly at the reporter, looking at and past her at the same time; a blatant attempt to curry favor with a world that already rushed to bow and scrape at his feet. Poor little rich boy, sent off to fight a war that his father disagreed with.

Jareth snapped the slide on his weapon and wiped it down almost tenderly. His plan was moving along smoothly now that he had a benefactor who agreed with him that all the Gundam pilots needed to be eliminated, starting with 04, Quatre Winner. Jareth had originally planned to take them in order starting with 01, but his benefactor had helped him see the error of his ways and how 04 was the power behind the pilots. Eliminating him would be cutting off the head of the beast and make it that much easier to destroy the rest of it.

Jareth's benefactor, the man he knew only as the prophet, had been the one who secured the job with the courier service that WEI used. Counseling patience and perseverance, he had helped Jareth suppress his urge to act impulsively and keep to the plan. Success depended on thinking things through and being as cunning as his prey. Evil was powerful, but he had right on his side and God would be his shield.

Setting the weapon reverently on the piece of cloth he kept strictly for that purpose, he reached for the remote, pausing the interview in a freeze frame. It was one he knew well, having studied it for hours on end searching for any signs of sincerity. Always he came up empty. Empty as the hollow ache in his stomach. The ache that had never quite went away no matter what he did to fill it up. The pain was real; it helped him to see through the illusions to the truth he carried with him every moment of every day. 04 and the rest of the Gundam Pilots must die to cleanse the human race of its sins.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was Sunday and Quatre should not have been at work. When it was all over and the dust had settled that was the thing that stuck in his mind. It was Sunday. If not for the last minute changes in the Anderson contract, that had to be reviewed before an early morning meeting to discuss whether to accept or reject the terms, he would have spent it like most of his Sundays. Basketball with the other pilots in the morning, a light lunch at one of the new cafés downtown, and a relaxing afternoon either reading or playing the new piece of music he'd purchased a few days before. He hadn't had a chance to even really look at it yet and he had not even picked up his violin in much too long. He'd been hoping to talk Trowa into joining him for music practice and possibly dinner, something that was becoming the best part of his Sunday routine.

But, instead, he was sequestered in a conference room on the top floor of the WEI building with the team that was handling the negotiations. Coffee and bagels sat in the middle of the table, a small apology and thank you for giving up their family time to spend it with him at work. Quatre was well aware of the hours his executive teams put in and was loath to ask them to give up one of the few days off they received. The three men and one woman seated around the table were all casually dressed as was Quatre. His loose t-shirt and shorts were a testament to his desire to catch at least part of the weekly basketball game, even though he was fully prepared to stay as late as needed.

Flipping through the pages of legalese, he stopped on a paragraph that was highlighted in yellow. One of the major sticking points that needed to be assessed for long term ramifications before the contract was accepted or rejected. The lawyers had been through the addendum with a red pen making comments, but the truth of it was they had no idea about the capacity of the machines involved or fair market prices for shipment and raw ore. That information had to come from other sources before Quatre could put all the pieces together and make a decision that would best benefit WEI.

"Moving on to page one ten. Half way down starting with paragraph fifteen section four and continuing on to the next page through section eight. This is one of major changes. Previously they were not demanding exclusivity on any ore mined, just that they be sold the highest grade to come out of the asteroid and that a minimum be shipped before late charges were incurred." He looked up from the page and smiled at the petite redhead seated at the end of the table. "Allison, what are the stats on the asteroid in question? Is there enough material to meet the minimum or are we limiting ourselves if we give them exclusivity?"

Allison Greyholm opened one of a dozen folders that were stacked in precise order at her elbow. She was young for the position of executive vice president in charge of new mining operations that she held, being only twenty-five years old, but she knew what it took to set up an operation and make it lucrative better than people twice her age who had been it more years than Allison had been alive. Allison's father had worked for WEI as an operations director. He moved from site to site, setting up an operation and making sure it was running correctly before moving to the next one. Her mother had died in childbirth so Allison had grown up watching her father work and knew all the ins and outs of his job. She had taken this knowledge and combined it with an MBA to earn herself the job she currently held and administered with almost frightening levels of energy and efficiency. In Quatre's mind she was being groomed to some day take over the whole of the mining division. She had the potential to go as far as she wanted to and he had no problem with hitching WEI's wagon to her star.

Tapping her pen on the document in front of her, Allison frowned. "According to the initial surveys and core samples the asteroid's core has a purity level of seventy five to eighty percent. The problem is that it is surrounded by a dense outer crust that is only about half of that in purity. Year one and possibly year two the conditions are perfectly viable. The contract has the standard disclaimers about taking delivery of ore that is only ninety percent or more pure so the iron and trace minerals would be ours to sell elsewhere without breeching the exclusivity."

"After year two?" Quatre prompted.

"That’s when things begin to get dicey. At that point the operation should be fully ramped up and we'll start hitting the ore with the higher level of purity. Once that happens exclusivity becomes a strictly one-sided advantage. Anderson won't be able to take delivery of everything we can pull out or they will be in violation of the ESUN regulations limiting Gundanium possession. Even if they could get an exemption, which I don't see happening, we will still be left with a good half of what we mine sitting until the term of the contract is up. That or we'll have to decrease the size of the operation which means moving miners or letting them go."

Quatre shook his head. "Letting them go is not an acceptable scenario. Do we have any other operations ramping up that will be in a position to take on the extra workers when we need to make the shift?"

"Not currently. Though Addy and his team are surveying two other asteroids and a small planetoid for viability. We haven't reached the point of looking at setting up operations yet so I don't have any data on how many workers if any will be needed."

"Addy?" Quatre turned his attention to the man sitting to Allison's left. Whoever invented the expression 'a bear of a man' must have been looking at Adelaide "Addy" Thompson at the time. Named for the Australian city that his forefathers had emigrated from, the man in question had spent most of his life in space. His credentials included degrees in geology, mineralogy, and deep space engineering. Addy was the go to man for determining if anything in space was worth the money it would cost to mine it.

Frowning, Addy quickly thumbed through the stack of documents in front of him. "One of the asteroids has potential, but the other is too unstable. It will shatter if we try to mine it and what little ore is in it isn't worth the risk to the miners or the expense of shoring it up enough to capture the pieces once it breaks apart."

"What about the planetoid?" Quatre shifted forward, resting his chin on his fists as he listened intently.

"Too early to tell. We only have the first samples and they're only surface material and shallow drills. We're drilling for core now. I'll have a better answer for you in a week or so."

Quatre nodded, making a note in the margin of his paper to follow up with Addy in a week's time. He would push back signing the contract if necessary until this question was resolved. WEI was careful with all its resources, and manpower represented a huge portion of those. Not only did each miner represent a large financial outlay in training, but Quatre never let himself forget that these were not numbers, but human beings, many of whom were supporting families. They risked their lives everyday working for WEI and he was not about to cut them lose when it became inconvient to have them on the payroll. They worked hard for him and he would do no less in return.

"Henry?" Quatre's attention shifted to the older man who sat a bit apart from the rest of the group. Henry Winton was dressed in an expensive blazer, dress shirt and slacks. His idea of casual being he had left the tie and diamond cufflinks at home. He was old enough to be Quatre's father; possibly his grandfather, and he represented the bulk of the staff that Quatre had inherited when he took over after his father's death. Henry was the one that Quatre used as a gauge to determine how the more conservative factions of the board would react to a given idea or plan. Despite a rocky start and the occasional rough patch, he and Henry had come to admit that each knew their job, although on Henry's side the agreement was somewhat grudgingly.

Clearing his throat, Henry glanced around making sure that all eyes were on him before proceeding. "As Miss Greyholm mentioned, the terms of the contract can be met easily. The question is if it in Winner Enterprise's best interest to enter into something that is going to tie up a large amount of high grade ore for five years. I have to admit I was rather surprised when I read through this, as five years is not industry standard. Most of our other contracts are two or three years with an option for renewal at the end of that period. The fines for non-delivery of goods and delays are also extremely high. Two to three times higher than even Ingelnoll shuttles and they are on the high end of standard."

Frowning, Quatre drummed his fingers on the table, not liking the pattern that was beginning to form. "What about fines and penalties on their side?"

"Minimal or non existent."

Quatre's fingers stilled; a sure sign that he was not happy. "So, what you are saying is that this contract is heavily weighted in Anderson's favor?"

"To the extreme, sir." As the head of the section of the legal department that dealt with contracts, Henry Winton knew not only the money side of WEI, but also all the legal loopholes that had ever been tried.

Ignoring the hated honorific, Quatre carefully folded the pages over so that the first page was again on the top. "Am I understanding correctly that we have wasted a good portion of our weekend reviewing what is basically a contract that is so unbalanced it's not even worth the paper it took to print the damn thing?"

"Essentially, yes. The first hundred pages or so were fairly standard though padded with a lot unnecessary fillers. I am guessing they were attempting to bury the questionable material on the assumption that whoever was reviewing the contract would only skim the latter parts."

Quatre snorted; a sound that made Henry flinch and Allison grin. "We did not become a multibillion credit corporation by being sloppy in how we do business." He leaned forward in his seat, eyes locking on the final man in the room, Matthew Raleigh, contract negotiator and client liaison. "Did Anderson contact us or did we pursue them?"

Matt swallowed nervously, fumbling through his notes for the answer to Quatre's question. He wasn't the type who intimidated easily, as that would be fatal in his job, but there was something about Quatre when he had /that/ look that made Matt more than a little nervous. At thirty-one with a masters in business with a minor in interpersonal communications Matt was good at his job. When asked, he described his position at WEI as part geisha girl and part salesman. His charm and reputation for honesty matched well with his strong good looks. "They contacted us." The sir was on the tip of his tongue and he bit it back, knowing that it would just add to Quatre's irritation.

Nodding abruptly, Quatre leaned back in his chair, somewhat relieved. "The meeting is slated for nine am tomorrow. I will have Gretchen call and cancel it when I get in in the morning. This company is not going to waste another minute on this crap." Quatre's finger stabbed at the contract on the table in front of him. "Gentlemen and lady, I believe we're done here today. There will additional compensation for this waste of your valuable time. Since you are free tomorrow morning I don't expect to see any of you in the office before noon at the earliest." He stood, his expression softening. "Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I have a basketball game I can just catch the end of if I hurry."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Glancing around the almost empty parking lot, Jareth shifted the sealed courier bag to his left hand before wiping his right on the leg of his uniform slacks. This was it, the moment when all his hard work and patience would pay off. He was nervous and his hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath he focused the details he and his benefactor had gone over the previous night. This would work, he was sure of it. Sunday, The Lord's day to do The Lord's work.

"Act normal," he reprimanded himself in a low whisper. "This is just another Sunday delivery. No different from any other."

He forced himself to concentrate on the bag in his hand and not the gun that rested in the holster on his hip. He'd worked hard, putting in a lot of hours and never taking a day off, to prove to his bosses at the courier service that he was trustworthy enough to be promoted into a position that would not only allow him access to the upper floors of the WEI building, but also required he wear a weapon at all times.

It had to be a Sunday when things were more relaxed, that was one of the many variables Jareth and his benefactor had discussed in the process of setting this up. There would be only one chance of that they both had no doubt. Once a security hole was discovered it would be plugged immediately. Quatre Winner was more closely guarded than the virginity of a sacrifice to the gods.

The building loomed in front of Jareth and for a moment he almost turned and walked away. It was too much; he would never be able to convince the guard. He was incapable and he would fail. He always failed. Stopping he stared up at the wall of glass in front of him. There was no room for doubt now; he had to hold onto his faith. Trial by fire and he would emerge a forged weapon for God. 04's money and power wouldn't convince God to judge him any less harshly than the lowest scum who thrived on death and destruction.

Taking a long slow breath, Jareth pulled open the door and stepped into the foyer of the WEI building. An undeniable feeling of destiny washed over him and his confidence returned. This was meant to be and he was no longer simply another person but a messenger of God. The Gundam Pilots needed to die for the world to be purged of evil and 04, a moneychanger who openly admitted to having a special friend who was another man.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Quatre was halfway to the ground floor when he remembered the papers he was supposed to pick up were still on his desk. He vacillated for a moment then, swearing under his breath, made his apologies to the other occupants and stabbed the button for the next floor. The elevator slowed and the doors opened smoothly as the car came to a halt.

Without waiting for a reply to his have a good day, Quatre took off down the polished corridor. Using his keycard to open the door to the stairway he made his way back up the three floors to where the executive offices were located, taking the stairs two and three at a time. He checked his watch as he pushed through the door and swore loudly to the empty hallway. He'd missed the basketball game and it looked like lunch was probably going to be a no go at this point too.

This was turning out to be one of those days when being the CEO of multibillion-credit corporation, and one of the wealthiest men in the ESUN, just wasn't worth the aggravation that went along with the titles. He allowed himself a moment of self-pity at the thought of spending the rest of his Sunday going over other paperwork. Letting himself into his office he took the duffle, with his basketball equipment and the gun he always carried, and tossed it onto one of the chairs before moving behind the desk with a sigh of resignation.

His butt had barely settled onto the soft leather when the intercom crackled into life. "Mr. Winner?" The face of the guard in the lower foyer sprang into life on the screen and Quatre forced a smile on his face. It wasn't the guard's fault he was having a crappy day and he didn't deserve to catch the flak for it.

"Yes, was there something you needed?"

"Sorry to bother you, sir." The guard's expression was apologetic and embarrassed. "Jareth from the courier service is here with some documents he says can only be released to a vice president or higher. The others already left or I would have had one of them sign for it."

Swearing under his breath without breaking the smile, Quatre looked longingly at the door of his office, all hope of salvaging even part of his Sunday quickly disappearing before his eyes. He was going to have to go through this new paperwork now so he might as well just stay and finish up here instead of taking the other home to look over. "All right. I'll be down in a just a few minutes to pick them up. Please let Jareth know he's welcome to some coffee in visitor lounge while he's waiting." Ending the connection a bit more abruptly than was polite, Quatre stood, letting his chair roll backwards from the motion. If this was another missive from Anderson with new demands heads were going to roll.

Picking up his keys from the desk, Quatre shoved them into the pocket of his shorts. At the door he paused, looking at his gym bag. For a moment the need to pull out his gun and take it with him tugged at him, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Annoyance was making the paranoia kick in again. Closing the door firmly behind him he hurried down the hallway towards the elevator.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jareth wiped his hands on his slacks trying to keep the nervousness and excitement from showing on his face. His benefactor had reminded him time and again that 04 was much more cunning than he appeared. Do not be deceived he had been told. He knew that, knew the evil that lurked behind that innocent smile. The devil had the best disguises, often wrapping himself in the appearance of kindness to better lure the unwary into the trap of eternal damnation. Jareth knew this well.

Point and shoot. Catch him by surprise and give no chance for reaction. That was the plan. Draw, aim and shoot. One smooth movement so the target was caught before he had a chance to react. Jareth had practiced this; his kill percentage in simulation was ninety eight percent. He could do this and in doing so would assure himself not only a place in history, but one in Heaven as well. It would be his moment of glory and his way of helping to create a better world.

The door opened and Jareth paused, hand poised on the grip of his weapon, ready to draw as soon as he had a clear shot. The man who stepped into the room however was clearly not 04; he was younger, not much older than Jareth and dressed in a baggy t-shirt and shorts. Jareth let his hand fall to his side, relaxed, even as disappointment flowed through him, the taste of failure sharp on his tongue. Today would be another misstep to be endured and learned from.

The man crossed the room, the smile on his face out of place with the look of annoyance that furrowed his brow. "I understand you have something I need to sign for?"

Shaking his head, Jareth held the sealed package close to his chest. "I'm sorry, but this is confidential information. A vice president or higher is the only one I can release it to."

He was close now. Stopping just outside of Jareth's personal space. The frown deepened and Jareth tensed as the man reached into his back pocket. Jareth eased his stance but didn't quite relax when all that was withdrawn was a wallet. He watched closely as the man opened his billfold and flipped through it before handing the whole thing to Jareth.

Jareth's gaze flicked to the drivers license and back to the man holding the wallet. Quatre Winner? No, that could not be. /This/ was not 04. It must be a trick of some kind, it had to be. Slowly, Jareth studied the man in front of him taking in the mop of messy blond hair, the non descript clothes that were definitely not the part of any designer's fall line, and coming to rest on the short socks and scuffed sneakers. The man chuckled, a rich tone that rang a familiar tone in Jareth. "Excuse the outfit. I wasn't planning to spend my Sunday working." He smiled again and this type Jareth could see the evil underneath the polished façade. "Unfortunately things don't always go as planned."

So that was the ploy. Throw him off guard by making 04 appear to be just him like him. A common man among men. Well he might have been fooled for a moment, but Jareth had seen through the devil's disguise. He had been tested and his faith had seen him through. He offered the package and removed the pen from his shirt pocket a smile of apology on his lips. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winner, I didn't recognize you."

"No problem." 04 flipped the wallet closed and shoved it back in his shorts pocket before accepting both the package and the pen. Jareth's hand returned to the grip of his gun. 04 was right there in front of him, all he needed to do was draw and shoot. This was his moment. Pulling the gun loose he brought it up, his finger squeezing the trigger even as he leveled it at his target.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Quatre was torn between annoyance and amusement at the courier's refusal to believe he was actually himself. He and his press agents had worked hard to build a specific image, one that showed him as a serious businessman and humanitarian, the only two parts of himself he was willing to share with the public. Between them and his security the world knew him as a sophisticated dresser who never had a hair out of place. All things considered it shouldn't have been a surprise that this kid that Quatre had never had direct contact with wouldn't believe he was Quatre Winner. His current outfit was certainly not one that would ever make the cover of GQ.

The driver's license was all it took to prove who he was, at least to the kid. The Gundam pilot in the back of Quatre's head scoffed at that. Did this guy have any idea how easy it was to have a false ID made? Reaching for the proffered pen and package, Quatre made a mental note to have someone contact the courier service and put in a good word for the kid since he hadn't just accepted Quatre's word on who he was. Contentious employees deserved to be acknowledged for their efforts.

A hint of movement caught his eye as the gun came up and he reacted, his instincts kicking in a minute before his brain had time to realize the situation he was in. Using the heavy courier package, he swung for Jareth's gun hand, making contact as the weapon fired. There was a burning sensation in his arm and he knew from experience that he'd been shot. The pain was a bearable level and Quatre was not willing to take his eyes from his assailant to check the damage. There would be time enough for that later if he survived.

Quatre lunged forward, somewhat awkwardly, the wound in his arm interfering with his ability to overpower his opponent. The force of his body making contact managed to throw Jareth off balance so his next few rounds went wild around the room, several lodging in the ceiling. The sound of glass shattering indicated at least one window had fallen victim to the assault. The smell of coffee filled the room and Quatre reassessed the damage to include the coffee pot. Some small part of his mind flared with rage at the waste of good coffee.

Cordite burned his nostrils, bringing back memories of battlefields and lives snuffed out for the ownership of a piece of ground. Quatre could feel the iron control he kept over the Gundam pilot part of himself explode as a second bullet grazed the side of his face. There was no doubt this kid intended to kill him and, while there were days he would agree that his death was the only fitting punishment for the things he had done, today was not one of them. Guilt only had so much power in his life and like all creatures placed in a life and death situation he would fight to survive. He could and would lament his choices later.

Pushing Quatre back, Jareth stepped away, gun again raised and perfectly steady in his hand. Quatre dodged, feeling the weapon follow him as he moved. Coming in low to throw off the shot, Quatre wrapped his arms around the man's chest, using his forward momentum to knock them both off their feet. The two wildly flailing men hit the ground with a crash causing the chairs closest to them skitter away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part of Jareth stepped outside of himself when the first bullet failed to find its target. He was there, struggling to kill 04 and watching himself at the same time, part of, and separate from the scene. This would end with his death; the certainly of that knowledge settled over him. After all his preparation he would not be the one to rid the world of evil as he had dreamed of doing. No, it would continue on and he would be another soul lost in the fight.

More rounds fired and Jareth could hear the footsteps of the guard as he approached in a full out run. The weapon was between himself and 04 now, both of them fighting for control of the one thing that could shift the balance of power. There was a shot and Jareth felt himself wrenched back into his body, pulled like iron to a magnet. There was a moment of excruciating pain and heaviness as he looked up into the eyes of the man he had come to kill. From somewhere far away amid the buzzing in his ears Jareth though he heard "I'm so sorry."

No, that couldn't be right, 04 was a killer, a man without compassion or morals. Maybe Jareth would be a martyr, his death a touchstone for those who would come after him. The thought made him smile as the heaviness increased. The pain was gone now, numbed by whatever mercy God gifted the dying with. Soon he would be in Heaven, living the eternal life he had been promised. His eyes slipped closed, the effort to hold them open too much. Darkness, peace and calm; it was his and he belonged to it as it spread through him, taking his soul with it when it fled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I expect the initial report on my desk no later than ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Make sure the preliminary coroner's report is included too. Considering who was involved here and the implications I expect this investigation to be given first priority."

Duo nodded, frowning as he wrote something in his notebook. "We have an ID on the guy and Heero and Wufei are on their way over to his place right now."

Lady Une frowned. "Did you get a warrant? Not that we need one considering, but its better to make sure we have everything in place. This is going to be a media circus no matter what we find out. The more we err on the side of caution the better off we will be." She sighed, her eyes going to the sheet covered body not to far from where she stood. "At least we don't have to be concerned about making a case for prosecution."

"Zechs' got it covered. He's down picking up the warrant from Judge Peterson and will take it over to Heero before he heads back here."

"Ma'am?"

Turning to the paramedic, Lady Une nodded sharply. "Yes?"

"Mr. Winner is stabilized now, but he needs to be hospitalized. He's going to need surgery to remove the bullet. We are only authorized to transport him to the nearest facility. The gentleman with him said he's in protective custody and needs to go to Preventers. I'm going to need to get special permission and have someone sign papers taking responsibility if anything happens."

Following the paramedic's line of sight to where Trowa was sitting on the floor holding Quatre, one hand stroking the blond's hair, the other wrapped around him, Lady Une felt her stomach lurch. The injuries might not have been life threatening, but that didn't do much to alleviate the emotional reaction to seeing someone you cared about bleeding out from a gunshot wound. She wished that she could reassure them that this was a fluke, a one time occurrence, but sadly it would be a lie, one that neither of them would take well to hearing. The lives they had led, and in Quatre's case, who he was, meant that there would always be a target on their backs.

"I'll sign for it." She forced her eyes away from the painful scene, feeling like she was intruding on Barton's pain. "Agent Barton is to be allowed to ride along as a precaution."

"We're not allowed to have civilians in the ambulance, Ma'am. It's against company policy."

Lady Une pulled herself up to her full height, managing to look down her nose at the paramedic even though he stood several inches taller. "Agent Barton is /not/ a civilian. He is a Preventer's agent who has been assigned to protect Mr. Winner. If you can't give permission for him to accompany you then you need to find someone who can. I'll sign a waiver of liability if necessary, but I will not be responsible for Mr. Winner leaving here unprotected." 'Or the bloodbath that will occur if you tell Barton that he has to leave his partner's side' she added to herself. The two of them might still be dancing around each other but each step brought them closer together. It was simply a matter of when the line would be crossed.

Stepping backwards quickly, the paramedic swallowed hard. "Yes Ma'am. I'll do that now." He hurried away, his cell phone already out, fingers flying over the keypad.

"He's lucky he didn't mention that little detail to Tro."

Nodding, Lady Une acknowledged Duo's return. "He is that. I suspect Barton would have handled the situation with his usual tact and diplomacy."

Duo snorted. "You mean give the guy that look? The one that says I'm going rip your spleen out with my bare hands and enjoy doing it? Right before he informs you it would be in your best interests not to piss me off?"

"I see you've had the pleasure of watching him negotiate." The amusement in Lady Une's voice didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was hoping that Winner's social skills might have had more of a positive influence." She paused and rubbed her eyes. "Not that I expect Winner would be anymore diplomatic if the circumstances were reversed."

"Nope." Duo shook his head slightly sending his braid swinging gently across his back. "Q only seems sweet and innocent until you get between him and Tro then the gloves come off."

"So it would seem." She couldn't help but smile slightly, memories of how she had protected Mr. Treize in much the same way flooding back to her. Even now she nurtured his dreams of a world at peace. United under one banner. True it was ESUN and not OZ or Romefeller, but that wasn't what mattered. Making sure no more young men and women were sent to their deaths; that was what was important.

Shaking off the feelings of melancholy that always accompanied thoughts of Mr. Treize, Lady Une crossed the room, ticking off a list of things that needed to be done. First priority was getting Winner to a medical facility without having to sedate or restrain Barton. Second, a preliminary strike with the press who were already gathering in mass outside the building. Third, check in with Yuy and Chang to see what they had found out. Finally, if she was lucky, dinner and a good cup of coffee before tackling the messages that she knew were already piling up in her voice mailbox.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We need to tell Winner so he can increase his security." Wufei slapped the journal on his desk and began to pace, the frown on his face deepening with concentration.

Heero nodded in agreement. "Commander Une as well so she can post a guard at his door until he is released from the hospital." He paused, smiling slightly. "Not that anyone is likely to get past Trowa."

"No, but Barton needs to focus on Winner right now, not security. That's our concern. All of our concerns if this journal is to be believed." He picked up the dog-eared notebook and skimmed through it before starting to read.

_And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth._

_My benefactor was correct when he told me to search Revelations for the truth that our mission was ordained by God in all his glory. The fourth beast was the one to lead them; he is death and with him hell will follow. Power given unto him over the fourth part of the Earth is L4 of the colonies. Killing him will allow the four horsemen, clearly the other Gundam pilots to ride and the cleansing will begin. They will rise in retribution and bring about Armageddon._

Wufei flipped forward to the first page, beginning to pace again as he read, his voice deceptively calm even though his knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the journal.

_My benefactor said there was to be no record; that no one was to know he had been the guiding hand behind my mission of glory. Yet on this matter I must not fail him. He shall be known for his good works and I, as his disciple, shall reflect his glory as he shall reflect mine. Without his strength I would have failed. He has kept me on the path to righteousness, nurturing my faith with his kindness._

Closing the book with a snap, Wufei returned it to the box of evidence sitting on Heero's desk. "Someone was using him. Manipulating what was already a damaged mind for their own purposes. The question is who and why?"

"What about the package the courier was carrying?"

"It was a prop. Marquis checked with the courier company; there were no deliveries scheduled for WEI for today and our perp was not scheduled to work again until Tuesday. Maxwell said the only thing in it was a large print copy of the bible."

"Indications of highlighted passages?"

"Not at first look through but we can examine it in more detail when Maxwell gets back. They are anticipating another hour at the crime scene to wrap up. Marquis is obtaining the vid and mobile phone records now."

Heero nodded and made a notation on the to do list in front of him. "Interviews with his co-workers and friends are first priority for tomorrow. If you will take those then I'll start at WEI and see if we can determine who knew Quatre would be at work today. Do we know the reason he was there?"

Wufei crossed the room and flipped through his notes. "Reviewing a potential contract with a company called Anderson Mining."

"Do we have their information?"

"Yes, they appear legitimate, but Maxwell can do some digging in the morning. He and Agent Schbeiker can see if anyone has information on them or potential hits on Winner."

Picking up his coffee cup, Heero stood. "Refill? It's going to be a long night."

Wufei nodded, his slight smile at odds with the frown marring his forehead. "Thank you." Sighing, he settled down at his desk. "The first of many long and fruitless nights I suspect. Whoever was the guiding force behind this has no doubt gone to great lengths to conceal his identity. I suspect that even our perp had no clue about who his /benefactor/ was."

Heero nodded slightly and reached to pick up Wufei's empty mug. "That is the most likely scenario. One that leaves us with no recourse; but to tighten security and presume that we are all part of whatever this person had in mind."

"That being the case we have a large problem with no indications of when or where it is going to erupt. Failure at this attempt is not going to detour him, though it will probably make him more cautious about his next move."

"What is it that Duo always says?" Heero frowned then smiled. "This is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Yes." Wufei took off his glasses and tossed them onto the desk. "And we are the Titanic heading full speed for it."


End file.
